Teatime with Oliver
by Rabieskatten
Summary: Sometimes the student Alfred F Jones can't remember what he did last night. Not because he was dead drunk, but because his other personality takes over. With the help of his wooden bat, Billy entertain himself by scaring the shit out of meat eaters. Alfred gets invited to have tea together with Arthur. What they both don't know is that Arthur have another personality too; Oliver.


Billy yawned tiredly as he came back in the evening. He was dead tired after today actions. Maybe he had gone a little bit overboard there. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to crush some of KFC's precious windows. In Billy's opinion, there was nothing wrong with doing that, even if some meat-eating kids had gotten some glass splinters on their food. Sometimes you had to teach them the hard way. He had used his bat. The big, faithful wooden bat that had served him so many times. Actually, he would sometimes add some more nails to it. The police didn't like it when he pulled it out in public. This time, the police had chased him quite a bit. Those fatass policemen must have been working out. Normally they wouldn't last long. Billy was good at running and that was probably why he was the one of the braver of his veggo brothers and sisters.

Billy was a vegetarian. It was both a conscious and natural choice to avoid eating meat. However, it wasn't only that. He strongly opposed all kind of drugs, including alcohol. Plus that he had issues with brainless consuming and unhealthy food. What he focused on during his raids was only one thing though – terrorizing meat eaters. When it came down to it, he didn't care if his actions led to a meat eater turning vegetarian or not. He just find amusement in scaring the shit out of them.

Billy took off his sunglasses to clean them up a bit. The colour of the glass was some shade of red. He thought they looked cool and that was why he used to put them on before going out.

He put the sunglasses down in a drawer and glanced downwards. He narrowed his eyes as he saw the familiar package of a take-away McDonald's meal in the garbage can. "Alfred F Jones...", he muttered to himself, clearly annoyed. He put the bat into the wardrobe before returning to the garbage can. "Alfred Fucking Jones", he mumbled, repeating the name as he picked up the plastic bag. "You disgusting bastard". He opened the window and threw the garbage out, into the container that was parked right below. Once that task was over, he collapsed into bed.

Alfred knew something was off with him. He kept having those memory losses. Sometimes he woke up and just couldn't remember the end of the previous day. That had been going on for a good while, actually. It was not because he had gotten dead drunk. It could be a normal day where he had been home playing games after a day of working or after school. He was just another university student. He lived in a small flat and earned his living by working extra at the grocery store. Not a very exciting life. Well, except for the creepy feeling that he had a couple of screws loose in his head. Or maybe he had a secret lover that he managed to forget all the time? Why else would he wake up in the morning with the feeling that someone else had been roaming around inside his apartment?

Alfred decided to ignore it, as usual. He figured that some way or another he would get an explanation anyway. He was the easy-going type of guy after all. Probably it was just his brother Matthew, since he was the only one who has got Alfred's spare key.

The day passed as usual. He went to his university for his lecture and then went to town. As usual, he would drop by the pharmacy to talk some to Arthur. Or, rather than talk, he would mostly just try to tease him. Arthur Kirkland took care of Alfred for a long time. Probably Alfred met him for the first time when he was about five years old. So he was like a childhood friend, or maybe like an older brother. Arthur would always dress properly, as the self-proclaimed british gentleman he was. His hair was blonde and his eyebrows were rather bushy. He had bright green eyes. Arthur always got irritated with Alfred. According to him, Alfred was probably the biggest idiot on earth. He had been thinking that ever since Alfred hit puberty and started to get less and less dependent. When it came down to it, Arthur was probably just a loner and sensitive on top of that. Plus he was caring a whole lot more than he tried to appear to do.

Alfred invited himself to the room in the back of the store. He knew that Arthur would have a tea break at that time.

"Hi! Got any cookies for me?!", Alfred asked as he flumped down on the chair.

Arthur looked up at him with a face that revealed he got pissed off by Alfred's intrusion.

"You should really go on a diet", he coldly answered.

Alfred just laughed and stealed a couple of cookies to munch on while talking. Speaking with his mouth full was one of Alfred's bad habits, which Arthur would always scold him for. Plus, he always had too many cookies. After talking for a bit, Arthur got sort of quiet.

"Uhm, mind joining me for tea this afternoon?", he finally asked, while staring down at the newspaper. He probably tried to appear like he couldn't care less about Alfred's answer. He was obviously not reading and he was most definitely going to care about the answer.

"If you don't try to force me to eat your homebaked scones, then I might", Alfred said, again picking on Arthur's lacking ability to cook and bake.

Arthur snorted at that. "Like I would bake anything for you anyway", he muttered.

That made Alfred smile. "Alright. I'll come over by six or something then", he promised.

Arthur nodded and put his cup of tea to his mouth. Although he didn't show it on his face, Alfred knew he was happy to get some company.

To make the afternoon pass, and because he was hungry, Alfred had nice meal at KFC. The restaurant was a bit chaotic since the windows got vandalized just the other night. While he was chewing on his meaty burger and washing it down with coke, he heard that the one who broke the windows was some straight edge activist. 'Strange people out there', Alfred thought.

After the meal, Alfred got over to Arthur's house, as promised. Arthur lived in a rather old building. The interior design contained old English furniture. He got heavy tables, wooden chairs in tree and big, old paintings. He once mentioned that he wanted his home to have a feel of old London.

As soon as Alfred stepped into the doorway, he smelled something nice. "Hey, Arthur!", he called as he walked through the corridor and turned left to the kitchen. He blinked as he saw Arthur standing in front of the oven, holding something. Curious about it, Alfred walked over and peeked over the other man's shoulder, just to see a basket of muffins. "Wow, muffins!", he said. "And they're not burnt".

Arthur gasped and dropped what he was holding. He immediately got down on his knees to pick it up. Then he looked over his shoulder, glaring at Alfred.

"You bloody idiot!", he yelled. "Call before you just walk in!".

"Well, I did!", Alfred told him and put his hands in his pockets, slightly pouting. Out of old habit, he always acted like a kid in front of Arthur. He decided to change topic. "Have you been baking? It smells good".

Arthur groaned. "I guess", he said, still sounding irritated. "I'll prepare the tea for you, so go sit in the living room".

"Alright, alright", Alfred said and walked to the living room, as he was told. The old couch creaked when Alfred sat down on it. It was exactly the same couch he had been sitting in ten years ago. Arthur never changed.

Soon enough Arthur came into the room with the tea.

"Hey, where's the sweets?", Alfred asked.

"You have them after the tea. That's common sense", Arthur told him as he served tea. He put four bits of sugar into the cup. He knew very well that Alfred liked his tea too sweet. He put only one in his own.

Alfred pouted again, but accepted the sweet tea for now. They soon started to talk and was soon debating on which was best out of American or English movies. That was a topic that could go on forever as they would never agree with the other. Arthur seemed to soften up a bit during this conversation though. He started to speak softer and smiled as he sipped his tea. For the second cup, he put four bits of sugar into both cups.

"Huh? That's rare", Alfred said, as he noticed the unusual amount of sugar that was put into Arthur's cup. "You sure you ain't gonna get diabetic?".

To Alfred's surprise, Arthur just smiled at that.

"I like it sweet, dear", he told him and giggled.

Alfred first reacted to the strange tone, and then the 'dear'. Plus that giggle... Where the hell did that come from?

"Uh, sure, whatever", he said and reached out for his cup of unnecessarily sweetened tea. That was when things got sort of blurry. He soon snapped out of it and looked up at the man before him. He just silently watched him for a couple of seconds. He knew this man and therefore he knew exactly what he was capable of.

"What did you put in the cup?", Billy asked, sounding highly suspicious.

"Sugar", Oliver answered with a grin. "Only sugar, sweetheart. You can trust me".

If there was one man Billy couldn't trust, that would be Oliver. Arthur worked in a pharmacy, which meant that Oliver could get ahold of various drugs he could use for various purposes. Billy did have experience on that. After a bit of hesistation, he reached out for the cup. He took a small sip and groaned. "Too sweet", he said. "It's sickening".

"You're not going to drink it?", Oliver asked. He didn't only sound disappointed, but also a bit hurt. Or maybe ha was just a good actor. "I made it with love".

Billy's heart skipped a beat. He looked down at the tea and swallowed hard. Even if there was drugs in it, Billy knew that he couldn't resist doing what Oliver wanted him to. So he put the cup to his lips and drank it. He finished it quickly and put it down. His heart was beating fast as hell. Maybe from the high amount of sugar, or maybe because Oliver looked at him with a satisfied smirk on his lips.

"Good boy", he said and slowly finished his tea.

Billy grunted. "Sugar is poison to the body", he muttered. He always said that when meeting Oliver.

Oliver chuckled and then finished his cup. He put it down gracefully, licked his lips and looked over at Billy. "How have you been? Still wanting to save the world by traumatizing meat eaters?", he asked, clearly making fun of Billy's activism.

Billy shrugged, but then made a small grin. "I might have teached some kids to stay away from KFC", he said. "Or at least not get the window seats".

"Brutal as always. Poor children", he said and got up from his chair.

Sensing that something was going to happen if he didn't leave, Billy tried to get up from the couch as well.

"Sit, will you?", Oliver told him and looked over with his bright, blue eyes.

Billy's eyes met with Oliver's. Like he had been instantly hypnotized by them, he obeyed. He sat down quietly. While the other man left the room, he glanced over at the door. If he ran, he would make it. As much as he wanted to leave, he wanted to stay to see what would happen this time. He decided to stay. While waiting for the other to return, the excitement was growing inside of him.

Oliver returned with a big plate of cookies. He put them down on the table before Billy and smiled cutely. "Some biscuits to the tea?", he asked.

It wasn't a question and Billy knew that very well. Still, he was going to resist a bit. He knew that Oliver actually liked it when he fought back a bit.

"No, thank you", Billy answered.

Oliver looked disappointed again. He deeply sighed and sat down with him.

"Are you sure, dear?", he asked. His voice was just as sickening sweet as the cookies in front of them.

"You know how I hate them", he said. "There's nothing nutricious about cookies. Actually, it's one of the worst things you can eat. Could I get some fruits instead?".

"I don't have any fruits", Oliver said as he picked up a cookie. He broke it into two pieces and leaned over to Billy. "Eat, or I will be so very sad".

The words '_so very sad_' echoed inside Billy's brain. He knew that Oliver could get those breakdowns. He could actually feel how the other one was close to one. Billy gave up and opened his mouth, letting the other feed him these transfat and white flour-filled sugar bombs.

Clearly amused, Oliver kept on feeding him. "One for London Eye... One for Hampstead... One for Big Ben... One for Tower Bridge... One for Picadilly Circus...", he said, putting while cookies into Billy's mouth.

Billy counted the cookies and turned away his head when they exceeded ten cookies. "Enough already", he told him. "I'm getting a headache".

"You have to finish your plate", Oliver said as he wiped a bit of cookie away from Billy's cheek.

Billy looked over at the plate and felt like puking. "Are you fucking kidding me?! That's at least one whole package!", he said, not wanting to keep this man company anymore. He stood up so that he could leave the room.

As soon as Billy stood up, Oliver grabbed him by his wrist. Billy looked over and gasped as he saw what Oliver was doing.

"P-put that knife down", Billy said, not feeling too brave now when he had a blade pressed up against his wrist. He knew that if he moved, Oliver could just finish him up right there. That man had "crossed the road" before, but he might as well "go down the road".

"So you will have my biscuits?", he asked him, sounding relieved.

Billy groaned and nodded as he realized that he was trapped. The only thing he could do now was eating those damn things up and throw it up later. As soon as Oliver let go of his wrist again, Billy sat down. His hand shaked as he reached out to the plate. Then he started to slowly feed himself the cookies. He felt his throat get so dry that it finally got hard to swallow.

"Can I get some water?", he asked, hoping that Oliver would be nice enough to give him a simple glass of water.

"Anything for you", Oliver said and went to the kitchen. He soon come back with a glass of water and put it down in front of Billy. Then he sat down again and comfortably leaned back.

Billy picked up the glass and put it to his lips to drink. That was when he felt the clear stench of alcohol. He stopped and put the glass down again without drinking.

"Water, I said!", he yelled. "Not toxic beverage!".

"Don't you know that 'vodka' means 'water' in Russian?", Oliver asked and made a wide grin while he played with his knife.

Billy groaned loudly. While Oliver had that knife out, he he had no choice other choice but to drink it. It burned his throat as he drank and Billy was clearly disgusted by the taste. He put the down glass again and picked up his pace, just wanting to finish already. As soon he had swallowed his last cookie he felt sort of dizzy and even sleepy. "Uhh...", he groaned as he put his hand to his forehead.

"Very good", Oliver said and patted Billy's shoulder. He let his hand rest a bit there, then draw his fingertips downwards Billy's arm.

Billy shuddered as he could feel how Oliver paused his hand and slowly run his fingertips downwards. Then he felt how Oliver took his hand away again. That bastard.

When Oliver got up and carried away the plate, Billy thought that this torture might be over already. That was until Oliver came back with a plate of muffins. Quickly Billy counted them. Three. He looked up at the man, who smiled happily down at him.

"I had enough of sweets, really", he told him.

"These are not sweet", Oliver said. "I promise".

"Do I have to eat something more after this?", Billy asked, hoping that Oliver soon had enough of this crap.

"No, you won't have to", Oliver said, sounding like he really meant that.

Billy swallowed and looked over at the muffins. He refused to believe that Oliver would serve him something he actually liked. Like bread. He decided to eat them. If Oliver said those were the last, that might be true. He nibbled on the bread and then he felt the smell of the filling. It was meat! 'Oh fuck. I can't do this', he swore inside his head. Now he knew why Oliver wanted him to eat those. Billy put it down on the plate and looked up at the man again.

"I refuse to eat these. I don't eat meat. I'm a vegetarian", he reminded Oliver. Not that this would help.

"I know, dear. I just figured you need some protein", Oliver softly said and sat down with Billy again. The man paused and just silently gazed at the other for a couple of seconds before he continued to speak. "Eat them up and you might get a reward".

Reward? Billy met Oliver's blue eyes and then looked away. He wondered if that reward would actually be something he liked. Oliver had no particular reason to give Billy a reward. Billy still felt threatened from knowing that Oliver was carrying that knife with him. He watched him have a seat again and cross his legs.

"Will I like the reward?", he finally asked, just wanting to be sure that it was going to be something good and not bad.

"Yes, you might", Oliver answered with a playful grin.

Billy reached up for the muffin again. 'Don't think about it. Don't think about what you're eating', he repeated inside his head as he started to eat. He closed his eyes as he was eating the flesh of dead animals. Maybe it was cow or pig. He quickly swallowed it down with the vodka so that he wouldn't feel the taste. First muffin done. He felt his throat hurting strangely as he reached out of the second muffin. It tasted slightly different. A slightly different taste of disgusting. Once he finished his second he glanced over at Oliver again.

"My, my. What if your friends knew that you've been eating meat of poor animals?", Oliver said and laughed to himself.

"Alfred Fatass Jones does it all the time", Billy hissed and reached out for the third muffin. Sometimes he wished that Oliver would just shut up. He quickly finished it and washed it down with the last of the vodka. Once this was done, he felt mentally exhausted. He could feel his eyes getting a bit teary. "Uh...", he groaned again, like he was already about to puke.

Oliver was smiling widely, clearly enjoying being such a sadist towards Billy.

"Was it good?", he asked and placed his hand on Billy's knee.

"Don't fuck around", Billy mumbled. Although he liked that hand on his knee. "It was the worst meal ever".

"I assume you want to know what kind of meat that was?", Oliver said and stroked Billy's knee while trying to meet Billy's eyes.

"I couldn't care less. Any meat is disgusting", Billy answered him, hoping that Oliver would stop teasing him so much. It was very distracting, actually.

"The first one was cat. The second one was dog. The third one was rat", Oliver whispered as he reveal this. "If you don't believe me... Take a look in the trash can".

Billy didn't doubt him. He knew that Oliver would eat any type of meat. Any.

"You sick bastard", Billy muttered, feeling how the contents of his stomach wanted to get out. Since that as the last, he assumed that this was over for now. He woobly stood up and then suddenly remembered. He turned around again. "By the way... Where is my reward?".

"What are you talking about, Alfred?", Arthur asked, sounding rather confused.

'Oh great. He turned into Arthur Dickland again', Billy thought to himself, momentarily forgetting how sick to his stomach he was feeling. He was actually disappointed by that. Oliver was a sick motherfucker, but Arthur was both annoying and boring as hell.

"... Nothing", Billy replied and reached out to take the knife away from Arthur. "I'll go return the knife to the kitchen, okay?"

Arthur nodded. "Yes. Take the plate with you, while you're on the way", he said as he picked up a magazine to read.

Billy left the room and soon put the things down in the kitchen. That was when things started to get blurry again. He leaned to the bench and soon felt much better.

Alfred regained consciousness and looked around for sweets, but didn't see any. Once he returned to the living room, seeing that Arthur was sitting there comfortably.

"Hey, where's my cookies?", he asked, feeling let down. The last thing he could remember was being served sweet tea. He looked at the watch and found that it was much later than it should be. Which meant he simply lost his memory again.

"How would I know? Did you have the muffins?", Arthur asked as he put away the magazine. He couldn't really remember much from this evening. Maybe he already served him the muffins.

"Uh, probably. I'm stuffed", Alfred said, not really wanting to reveal that he just got one amnesia moment. "Sorry for not saving any for you".

"You should be sorry about your gluttony, yes", Arthur said, again picking on how Alfred always ate too much.

Alfred decided to just play along with this, so that he could keep his secret.

"I can't help it!", Alfred said. "You know I'm crazy 'bout those things".

"I know that very well", Arthur muttered and looked up at him. Actually he was glad that Alfred ate them. He thought that maybe he had improved his baking skills. Problem was just that he had no memory of making those delicious muffins. Suddenly there were four of them and Arthur had one, to make sure they were edible. They were.

"I gotta go home to do some studying", Alfred said. "Make more some other time, alright?".

"I will. And, uhm, take care", Arthur said, soon seeing Alfred off. He was still confused about the evening, but assumed that he had brought the cookies and muffins to the living room, along with a knife to cut the muffins with. There wasn't any other explanation available, was it?


End file.
